Do not own.
What do you do when you realize your life sucks, you have to memorize 4 songs in three weeks (two of which are in a foreign language), you have to know the fifth one, no one is going to help you learn them, your life is made up of horrible coincidences, and it seems the more you bitch, the worse it gets? Well the answer is easy. You deprive yourself of sleep and try your hardest not to think, while you eat cold pizza in front of your computer and write a sucky fanfic that you have no idea what is going to happen.
So this is what this is. My horrid attempt to keep me from falling into the nothingness.
Harry woke up and thought he was still asleep. A soft lullaby was wafting through the air as he found himself in an unfamiliar room.
His first thought was, 'I'm dreaming.' And his second thought was, 'I'm dead... Thank God!'
To understand this train of thought, you must understand the mind of a teenage, fictitious boy; for that is what he is. He can be molded as seen fit, and is subjective to thoughts and actions not his own. He was created from a mere inkling and exists now only as entertainment. In short, he is naught but a character in a story.
And to understand this train of thought, you must read the bold A/N above.
Now back to the story.
Harry Potter had been wishing he was dead for a long time, now. All his friends were either murdered or had deserted him. With nothing else to look forward to, he had locked himself into a small corner and has never again even dared to think of anything else, but death.
With a heart as fragile and beautiful as glass, his fragments were so many that they could not be put back together. And that is how he got here: in this world made of nothing but glass and sorrow in which Harry thought he was dead.
He got up and walked. It didn't take him long until he ran into a glass wall. He followed the invisible wall until he reached a corner. Then he followed that wall until he found all the walls in the room. There were seven.
He pondered over that number. It had never been much significance when he was "alive". What could it mean now that he was "dead"?
Harry then became aware of the lullaby. Lost in his thoughts, he had forgotten all about it. Now he listened carefully. It seemed very familiar.
Then, just like the song, a voice came out of nowhere and said, "Sleep..."
Thinking that nothing would be better, he complied with the order and fell into sweet oblivion once more.
(e)
Story will continue if you want it to.
(e)
That was short and crapped. But it's actually better than what I would usually write. Weird. Well, review if you like it. Though I doubt it. So I won't be holding my breath. Much love.